


To My Heart She Carries the Key

by bronweathanharthad



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: F/M, Mentions of Violence, Post-Canon, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22686250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bronweathanharthad/pseuds/bronweathanharthad
Summary: More than one year has passed since Shivering Soldier was discharged on the grounds of conduct and behavioral issues. Re-adjusting to his home life has had its ups and downs, and he wants to make up for some of the lost time by having one good evening with his wife.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12
Collections: Valentine's Day





	To My Heart She Carries the Key

**Author's Note:**

> -This is tagged with Original Female Character(s) because while Shivering Soldier is canonically married (he has a wedding ring), the film doesn't mention his wife at all, so therefore we know nothing about her.
> 
> -trigger warnings: mentions of blood and violence; references to PTSD, including a brief PTSD episode; references to suicide ideation
> 
> -I rated it Teen and up just to be on the absolute safe side, but it might be okay for general audiences.

“Hi, Dan.” She greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. “How was your day?”

“Fine.” He still looked tired from a fitful night’s sleep, but the mostly uneventful day had brought some relief. Taking her hand, he said, “C’mere. I want to ask you something.”

They went to their bedroom, where he pulled something out of his pocket; she couldn’t make out what it was. Looking at the item, he said, “I know that I’ve missed a lot. I know I caused you grief.”

“Honey—”

“No, I know I did. You don’t need to pretend otherwise. And I know I haven’t always been here, even when I have.”

She looked at him with pity in her eyes. She knew he didn’t want her pity, but sometimes she couldn’t help it.

“I know we can’t replace the time we’ve lost and that I can’t undo what I did that day. Every day I regret it. I was certain that you and Johnny were better off without me. But, God, I was wrong. I was so wrong.”

“We’ve been over this.” She had put her anger behind him and did was she could to accept that unthinkable turmoil would have brought him to that point, but she had no wish to discuss it further at the risk of resurrecting her anguish.

“I know, and I wish more than anything that I could take it back. But at least I can try to make it up to you.”

“That really isn’t—” But before she could finish, he placed in her hand two tickets to _Henry IV, Part 1_. They went to that very play on their first date.

“It’s just … we haven’t had a proper date night since…”

She took a closer look at the tickets. It was a Valentine’s Day performance. The play wasn’t exactly known for romance, but that didn’t matter. With a smile she said, “Consider it a date.”

This was only their second time seeing the play. The first time, Alma hardly paid attention to the plot, as she was too preoccupied with making a good impression and not blowing her first date with her crush. Now here they were as husband and wife. It was a different theater with, of course, a different cast, but as she took his hand with a smile on both of their faces, for a moment she was a teenager again.

The battle scenes had more intense effects than either of them anticipated. The fake blood made Alma surprisingly woozy, and her hand began to hurt from the strength of Daniel’s grip. She forced her eyes away from the action and towards her husband. His gaze had shifted to the seats in front of them, and his face looked a little pale.

She stroked his hand with her thumb. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

“Yeah.” His answer came unusually quickly, and his eyes betrayed his turmoil.

When the men returned to the battlefield to look at the aftermath, for a few eternal seconds he was on the beaches of France, the tide clouded with blood, the sand still stained from the most recent onslaught, his eyes searching in vain among the countless dead and wounded for any familiar faces.

He felt a gentle weight on his shoulder followed by a squeeze. Alma’s hand. “Let’s get some air,” she said.

As they left the theater, he realized that his cheeks were wet. His whole body felt tense, and his hands trembled feebly.

Alma kept her hand on his shoulder. “Breathe. Nice, deep breaths. That’s it. You’re safe. Remember that.”

His fearful state was mercifully short-lived but still long enough to kindle worry in Alma’s heart. When he came to, the faint traces of tears in Alma’s gray eyes made his heart sink. “I’m sorry.” He frustratedly wiped away his tears, his hands still shaking, and more tears took their place.

Rather than say something, she embraced him with a loose grip, unsure whether he wanted to be touched. When he didn’t try to shrug off her embrace, she tightened her grip a little, but he did not hug her in turn.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “You didn’t deserve this.”

“Neither did you.”

“You should have watched the whole thing. God, I can’t even take you out for a couple of hours without fucking it up.”

“Honey, that doesn’t matter. I don’t care what we do tonight. We can just go back home and do nothing else if you want. I’m happy to just be with you.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Besides, we know how it ends.” She had learned by now that there was probably no chance of reasoning with him when he was this upset, but she didn’t want him to think that she was disappointed in him.

He wiggled out of her grip. “That isn’t the point. Today of all days should have been pleasant for once, and what do you have to show for it? A stupid, cowardly husband who can’t even sit through a play.” He knew she meant well when she spoke like this, but he couldn’t stand it.

“Do you want me to be angry? Is that it?” The harshness in her voice caught him off guard. “Why do you have to reject my words? Yes, I was hurt. And angry with you and angry with the hospital and confused and scared and not knowing whether to tell our son that you were in trouble when he didn’t even know that you were sick. But that’s behind us, Daniel! It’s in the past! Is it too much to ask that it stay that way?” With a sigh she rubbed the bridge of her nose, and several seconds of awkward silence passed before she collected herself. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’d rather you be honest.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“It’s fine, really.” He wrapped his arms around her, and she sighed again, this one not as agitated as earlier. “It’s your night. Is there anything else you want to do?”

“It’s a nice evening for a walk.”

They strolled through the streets without any particular location in mind, both content with each other’s company. He talked about the latest letters that the newspaper had received, some of which still concerned the United States’ recent decision to finally join the war, and she vented her frustration over the English and French-language lockdown at the opera house. “Mozart and Rossini didn’t cause this conflict,” she said. “Why silence them?”

“It does seem a bit much.”

She sighed. “Can’t change their minds, unfortunately.” But her face lit up as she realized that the confectioner across the street was still open.

Their stock had been pretty well picked-over by now, but they still found a small bag of chocolates. It was the perfect size for them to share on the cab ride home.

Once their son was soundly asleep with the teddy bear that Daniel had given him for Valentine’s Day, they returned to the living room, where a bouquet of roses caught Alma’s eye. Affixed was a note reading _My dearest Alma: To my heart you carry the key. I couldn’t have asked for a better valentine, and rest assured that I will always love you more than anything._

Alma gave him a kiss. “I love it.” She put on an Ella Fitzgerald record, making sure to keep the volume low so as to not wake up their son, and beckoned him over.

They swayed to the record, her hands clasped on the back of his neck and his hands cradling her waist. The moonlight poking through the windows bathed her red hair in a soft glow and illuminated the outline of his face. Were it still daytime, Alma would no doubt sing along, but tonight she was perfectly content to merely listen.

He pulled her closer as “Someone to Watch over Me” started. “Thank you for putting up with me,” he said.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“You could have left me at any time. You could have given up. You could have declared me a lost cause like the Army did. Yet here you are.”

“We took vows. There’s no need to thank me for upholding them.” She moved herself closer still. “I love you, Dan. That hasn’t changed, and it never will.”

As the chorus started, Alma cradled his face in her hands and pecked him on the lips. They shared two more quick kisses, and then Daniel went in for a slow, deep one.

Two months earlier they had decided that they were ready to have another baby. When they broke free from their final kiss he asked whether she wanted to try for one.

She glanced down at her stomach and looked back into his eyes. “I think we already succeeded.”

He blinked in surprise, his face blank as he tried to process her words. “Are … are you…”

“I think so. I haven’t had my cycle since Dec—”

He pulled her into a crushing embrace and kissed her on the forehead. A joyous laugh escaped from his lips, and the sound brought a smile to her face. “I love you,” he said.

The smile on his face was the brightest smile she had seen from him in a long time.


End file.
